Free Caramel Hearts by E.R. Murray Page A

bell,” says Harriet, smiling sadly. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m just tired. Stuff’s getting on top of me.”
    â€œLike me, you mean?”
    â€œNo, not you. Mam, late assignments… that stupid job interview. I’m missing my mates and trying to deal with stuff on my own. But forget it. Let’s try these flapjacks instead!”
    As soon as she finishes speaking, Harriet’s hand shoots out and grabs a steaming biscuit. I copy and we giggle loudly as we shove hot chunks of flapjack into our mouths like pigs.

Chapter Twelve
    Through the Ocean, Guiding a Calf
    The sun is shining low and bright as I reach Sarah’s house. Armed with carefully wrapped flapjacks, I ring the doorbell several times in quick succession, my heart thumping. Even though Sarah’s mum says I can just walk in, I can’t bring myself to do it. Mam would go nuts if she found out I was walking straight into other people’s houses – it’d make “a show” of her.
    â€œHi Liv, come in! Sarah’s waiting in the living room,” says Mrs Butler, opening the door just enough to be visible.
    Her greeting tumbles out clumsily, only half of her face smiling.
    She suffered a stroke whilst giving birth to Sarah – that’s why Sarah’s an only child – and she hasn’t regained full use of her left side.
    It was the stroke that made Mrs Butler agoraphobic, which means she’s too afraid to step outside her own front door. When it started, she was scared that people would laugh, and then it grew into this massive phobia. At first it seemed weird, but I’m used to it now. I often wonder what she’d do if there was a fire.
    â€œThanks, Mrs Butler.”
    â€œI’ve told you, call me Fran!”
    â€œOK, Mrs Butler.”
    Being on first name terms would also make a show of Mam. Another big no-no. Another thing to worry about.
    Sarah’s laid flat on her stomach, head resting on her hands, eyes glued to the TV.
    On the screen, a huge blue whale makes its way through the ocean, guiding a calf. The calf is so graceful it seems weightless, even though it probably weighs a couple of tons. I flop on the floor next to Sarah.
    â€œHi,” I say a bit too loudly, my nerves getting the better of me.
    â€œIsn’t it lovely? That something so b-big can be so gentle?” she says.
    Her tone of voice is fine, but the stutter shows she’s upset.
    I decide I’ll make it up to her – the flapjacks are a start.
    â€œYou’d expect it to kill the calf or something, being that massive,” I say.
    Sarah turns around, eyes wide.
    â€œWould you kill your baby if you were a blue whale? That’d be the ultimate betrayal.”
    I know the challenge is more about me than it is the whales, but I don’t bite.
    Cringing, I point at the screen, where a pack of killer whales flank the calf.
    â€œI wouldn’t need to.”
    We watch as the mother whale tries her best to guide her offspring, but the pack is stronger. It’s like Maddy’s gangwhen they spot Sarah. I don’t say that though – especially since I went off with them.
    â€œThat’s disgusting,” says Sarah, blocking her eyes from the television.
    â€œIt’s nature,” I say, eyes glued.
    The killer whales succeed at separating the calf from its mother. Thrown around by the hunting pack, bashed and bruised, the calf eventually tires and drowns.
    â€œHow can anything be so cruel?” asks Sarah, as the camera switches to a killer whale’s graceful retreat.
    A hot, steaming mug of chocolate arrives just in time – before things have a chance to get too heated.
    â€œThanks, Mrs Butler,” I say sweetly.
    Mrs Butler’s the best mam in the world, and you can’t help feeling chilled out around her – she has this calming effect. I always feel at home here, and my